


party favor

by smolstiel



Series: Boyking!Sam Drabbles [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, Gen, Hell, Implied/Referenced Torture, basically a lot is implied but nothing is implied, but those are implied if that counts, im not going to tag this hurt/no comfort ot dean whump because it isnt dean centric, theres a lot unsaid, this isnt even a fic its just the implication of one, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-11-01 22:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolstiel/pseuds/smolstiel
Summary: PROMPT: Write about how Hell’s celebrations (of victory in war or annual celebrations, etc.) look like.Written for the Boyking!Sam Discord server.





	party favor

Sam couldn't quite block out the sounds outside his castle. 

He'd only become king of Hell because he didn't have much of a choice. He'd made the best of what he'd had. He held two things closer than anything — his polaroid of Jess and the voicemail Dean had left him once upon a time. One for love and luck. The other for the strength of anger and bitterness it lent him. To remind him never to go back. 

Azazel hadn't had his interest in mind and neither had Ruby, but even then both of them had treated him with a certain reverence. The kind of quiet awe that belonged to a king. It had been intoxicating. And once he'd gotten used to his powers, it was just so easy. 

He didn't know how long it had been. Time passed strangely here. 

Dean had been nothing but a withered soul when he'd appeared at the foot of his throne one day (or night — hellfire never slept but it was always dark). Maybe twenty-six, maybe sixty. The words played over and over in his head. 

_You're a monster, Sam. And there's no going back._

"My lord," a demon had hissed, eyes snapping with glee and anticipation. "What shall we do with him?" 

Sam had tipped his head to the side, watching Dean glare back at him with utter hatred. It cut him to the quick. 

"Anything you like," he told the demon, teeth baring in a smirk. "He's all yours. All of you," he addressed the rest of the gathered court. "Consider it a celebration. Heaven's righteous _toy,_ ours to do with as we please." 

Dean's eyes had widened as he was dragged back into the fray, fighting and swearing, and soon he was screaming. He hadn't stopped screaming, but it was a little quieter from up here. 

Sam peered out the window past dark curtains. Slick blood made his stomach clench, and he let the fabric fall again. 

It was what he deserved. 

It didn't stop Sam from swallowing hard and wondering what he'd done.


End file.
